


there is a happy land

by jswoon2



Series: a bear in the bed [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Falling In Love, M/M, Sid Deserves Good Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jswoon2/pseuds/jswoon2
Summary: His instinct tells him to pull over, maybe take a power nap, then drive the rest of the way home.Sidney doesn’t listen.(a companion fic to 'a bear in the bed')





	there is a happy land

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, only proofread. Title taken from "The King and I" (1956). Reading a bear in the bed is not necessary but at some points help make connections where the fics parallel.
> 
> Comments and kudos are lovely! You can find on me tumblr as sinkpages.

_There is a happy land, far far away, where saints in glory stand bright, bright as day!_

 

Sidney shouldn’t be driving, but he is.

It’s just after midnight and he’s dead tired after a long shift at the bar. As long as he kept moving it was easy to push to the back of his mind how he needs rest. The day has just been a rush. He broke up with Spencer, told him to get all his things and leave by the time Sid gets home from work.

Work wasn’t much better. A drink was spilled on him. Accidentally, yes, but he smelled like alcohol even after changing his shirt in the back because he couldn’t get the scent off his skin. And just when he didn’t think it could get worse, he had to get a woman escorted out when finally he and Kris had to cut her off.

Luckily, Avery is sleeping over at Taylor’s so there’s no rush to get home. The last babysitter was hard to trust, since Sid was pretty sure she was drinking Spencer’s whiskey with her boyfriend over when she should’ve been watching after his son. The only benefit of the doubt he could really give her was that her boyfriend seemed like a real piece of work. He’d be drinking too if he was seventeen and dating a guy like Tony.

His instinct tells him to pull over, maybe take a power nap, then drive the rest of the way home.

Sidney doesn’t listen. So he might blink a little heavily than normal. Maybe he doesn’t focus quite as hard or check his mirrors as closely like he should. Maybe because he doesn’t have Avery in the car, he feels a bit more reckless driving, going through a yellow light that usually he would’ve stopped for.

Five more miles and he’ll be home. Sid slows down, far away from another red light. It switches to red as he comes to a rolling stop. His foot switches to the gas pedal, turning.

The sound of a horn honking is impossible to ignore.

In a panic he presses the gas harder. Metal crunches as his ears start to ring. Though he turns one way, his car drags in the other direction. His arm flies out to cover the passenger side. When he looks over at the vacant seat, he smiles.

Avery is at Aunt Taylor’s probably with a belly full of pizza surrounded by toys all gifted by her teammates because they love him. His son is probably safe and warm. _Happy_.

Sidney closes his eyes with a niggling of guilt. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d try to figure out why. His chest feels heavy.

 

*

 

A litany of concerned _papa_ ’s disturbs Sidney’s sleep. He rolls over onto his side, reaching to cover his ears with his pillow but only finds crisp snow when he forms a fist. Sitting up quickly, Sidney realizes he’s sleeping outside on the freezing ground dressed in unfamiliar clothing. Sidney gasps for air as a jolt of pain goes up his side. There’s only a short moment more to allow for panic, wondering where he is and why he’s in pain, before three children are jumping onto his lap, throwing their small arms around his neck in a tight hug.

One of them seems to be crying, rubbing their tear stained cheek against his. Their bodies are cold. Perhaps even colder than his own and Sid finds himself naturally wrapping his arms around them to comfort them. The smallest of the three has found a way to wriggle his way past the other two so he’s attached to Sidney like a young koala clinging to its mother.

“ _Sidka_ ,” Sidney hears with much relief in an older man’s voice.

A fur cloak is draped around his shoulders prior to another person embracing Sidney.

“Was so worried. You disappear and the kids say they see you walk off alone in woods,” the man continues, brushing the snow out of Sidney’s hair with one hand while the other holds an oil lantern high up for light. He seems manic. “What happened?”

Slowly, Sidney lets the children go, pulling back to examine all of their faces. All of them are unfamiliar although they look similar to them, especially the youngest. It’s like seeing Avery mixed with the man kneeling in front of him.

“The Queen Consort has been found!” a young man yells into the forest, standing a few feet away.

“Who are you?” Sidney asks. He tries to get up but his leg buckles when he tries to put weight on it. “Where am I?”

The man’s underlying look of relief vanishes. “What do you mean? Your head—” he begins, only to cut himself off. The strange man reaches out to touch Sidney but stops when Sidney flinches. “You bleed.” Turning to the young man keeping watch nearby, he orders, “Have Sasha be in the royal quarters by time we get back.”

The young man bows, rushing off to deliver the message as more men all dressed in fur coats and dated winter clothing emerge into the clearing—some on horseback, others riding bears.

“I must be dreaming,” Sidney says distantly when he sees them. His head aches and the pain becomes worse when he tries to touch it. Much to his horror his fingertips get wet with drops of blood.

“Is okay,” the man reassures, however, wiping the blood away from Sidney’s hand with a handkerchief. Authoritatively, he barks out orders in a foreign language Sid doesn’t recognize, then rises to his feet to begin undressing. “Children, let Seryozha take you back.”

“What’s wrong with Papa?” one child asks, the older boy, looking reluctant to leave Sidney’s side in his confused state.

“Papa just need rest,” the man says. He looks at the one he calls Seryozha, muttering more in the language unfamiliar to Sidney. “You remember how to ride?” he asks Sidney directly.

Sidney groans, putting his head down. He’s not sure what that quite means. It’s a struggle to keep upright.

The man speaks more and suddenly Sidney is being lifted off the ground and placed to lay on top of a soft but strong surface. His hand instinctively balls into a fist, collecting a bunch of fur. Someone—a man is sounds like by the way he speaks—keeps a hand on Sidney’s shoulder as they begin to move.

At the very least, he’s not cold anymore.

Watching the lantern light swing as they travel is calming. It lulls Sidney to sleep almost instantly.

 

*

 

The three children are all gathered around Sidney when he wakes up again. The girl wastes no time running off to alert the guard—why would Sidney need a guard?—that he’s awake while the older boy peers at Sidney carefully.

Groaning, Sidney pushes himself into a sitting position, then seeing that the little boy is doing his best to hold onto Sidney’s fingers.

“Are you in pain?” the older boy asks seriously.

Sidney smacks his lips together, realizing that his mouth is terribly dry. “Yes,” he admits.

“Father said we could give Papa the medicine when he woke up,” the girl says.

“With food,” the brother corrects.

“I already told Tisha Papa is awake. A few minutes before he eats won’t hurt him,” the girl corrects, already holding out silver cup for Sidney to take.

Sid takes what’s offered to him without question, although he feels reluctant to drink the unknown substance. The children, he can’t imagine, would try to poison him but he can’t say he’s so confident about the other man. He considers pretending to drink the medicine like he’s pretended dozens of times to eat the Play-Doh concoctions Avery used to make, but these children are older than that. He wouldn’t be able to fool them.

“You must be ill too,” the older boy comments offhandedly and honest the way children most often are. “Maybe we shouldn’t have bothered Papa,” he tells the girl, attempting to whisper.

“Father won’t know,” she replies.

“You not so good hiding things, Valeria,” someone corrects.

Sidney grips the cup tighter in his hand. The night before he hadn’t had the opportunity to see the man at full height. The man is huge, although he slouches slightly for the children’s benefit. The children seem quite tall for their ages and yet they only come up to his hip. Even the guard, as a full grown adult, looks small compared to the man.

The girl, Valeria, looks folds her hands behind her back, looking down at her shoes. Coyly, she looks up at the tall man through her lashes. “Sorry, Father.”

“Your papa teach you that?” the man asks, jokily ruffling her hair. “Go. Bother Uncle Sasha.”

The man waits until the children have left to sit on the corner of the bed, folding his hands on his lap forlornly. The guard Tisha dismisses himself, going back to his post while the another stranger remains in the room, waiting for the next order.

“You don’t know me?” the man asks to confirm. He seems fearful of the answer.

“No,” Sidney admits truthfully.

The man sighs. “Sidney still out there, then.”

“ _I am_ Sidney,” he asserts before he can stop himself. Not that it would make a difference. Sidney is pretty sure that the man already knew his name—even said it, although now he’s unsure.

“Not my Sidney,” the man replies. “Leave, Seryozha. I must speak to Sidney alone.”

Seryozha crosses his arms over his chest. “As your advisor, I advise against me leaving.”

“Do I ever ignore your advice, Seryozha?”

“Often,”

“Then once more won’t make difference.”

Seryozha huffs out a laugh. “I suppose not, my King.” The royal advisor bows, taking an extra second to observe the change in Sidney’s expression. This man who found him and is housing him is somehow royalty.

Against the pain in his side, Sidney tries to sit up straighter while his body protests the movement. The fact that his mouth is dry becomes harder to ignore. His own heartbeat betrays him, threatening to burst out of his chest. The only logical conclusion is that he really did hurt his head and all of this is just a dream.

“I want,” the man says slowly, choosing his words carefully, “I want believe that someone enchanted you, that you—you are _my_ Sidka but my Sidka has no enemies. If he did and they made him forget me, he wouldn’t forget our children but you. You comfort Yura because he call you papa, not because you remember him.”

Sidney sucks in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

The king laughs hollowly. “You remind me of him, when we were young. He always apologize when he didn’t have to.”

“I appreciate the hospitality, but I have to get home,” Sidney says. He’s been gone for who knows how long. Taylor is probably worried sick about where he is. He’s never late without calling first. Remembering himself, Sidney quickly adds, “Your Majesty.”

“Call me Zhenya,” the kind corrects. Slowly, he stands. “Take your medicine. It will numb pain. If you lucky, it might make you sleep.”

“But I really have to go home,” Sidney tries to insist.

Zhenya rubs at his eyes. “And home? Where is it? My husband disappear when you show up. You go nowhere until I find him.” Looking pained, he holds a finger up to prevent Sid from talking. Surprisingly, it makes Sid swallow his tongue. “Please,” Zhenya corrects himself, “stay here. Let Sasha take care of you.”

Calmer, Zhenya marches to the bedroom door, throwing it open with more force than necessary. The guard nearly jumps out of his skin meanwhile Seryozha looks unsurprised at the king’s agitation.

“Send a raven to the South. I want Dupuis,” Zhenya says, bypassing Seryozha without acknowledging him.

Sidney’s eyes widen. If Pascal is here then maybe, Sidney thinks, he can relax. Even if it’s only a little bit.

He puts the silver up onto the bedside table back where it was before without drinking from it. Without the medicine, he lays back down to close his eyes. His whole body feels sore but he tries to sleep anyway. There’s no chance that he’ll be able to run away.

The king probably wouldn’t like it if he did that.

 

*

 

Sasha turns out to be the court physician. He comes while Sidney sleeps to check Sidney’s bandages and to collect what should’ve been an empty cup. Despite being as quiet as can be, Sid is a light sleeper. He stirs as Sasha checks Sidney’s leg and the contraption that keeps it straight. It’s not quite a cast, but Sidney imagines that that is what it’s supposed to be.

“Pain must not be too bad if you sleep,” Sasha says conversationally. “I’m never see these injuries together before. Then again, Sid always bit different. Always surprise me.”

“I’m not him, though,” Sidney protests, although allowing Sasha to prop several pillow behind his back to help him sit up. Someone delivered food when he was sleeping and they didn’t wake him up. Not even accidently, like Sasha.

“Yes, yes. Not exactly same but you close though.”

“The kids,” Sidney tries to approach cautiously, “do they know I’m not really Sidney?”

Sasha pauses. “Best you talk to Zhenya.” Trying to make a quick getaway, Sasha gathers the small tray with his supplies but Sidney grabs his wrist to prevent him from leaving. At least the potion numbs the pain enough where the movement is nothing but a dull throb. “Ask _Zhenya_.”

“Tell me. Do those kids know I’m not their dad?” Sidney pleads.

“No,” Sasha says, clearing his throat. “They—Zhenya not tell them. He think it best to let few people as possible know you aren’t Sidney. His Sidney.”

Sid lets his hand fall back to his side. “He lied to them.”

“To protect kids and to protect his people, yes.”

“I’ll have to lie to them too.”

Sympathetically, Sasha confirms, “Yes.”

Left alone with his food, having already taken his medicine, Sidney eats half of the stew and picks at the fruit for a while, merely eating without thinking as his mind wanders elsewhere. A young woman comes to collect his dishes an hour later.

Sidney asks her if she knows when Zhenya will return but she doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’s lying to him. By the way she bows to him so formally, it makes Sidney conclude that she must not know who he is. In her eyes, he’s royalty. A shame that he can’t find it in himself to enjoy it.

 

*

 

Either Zhenya is avoiding him or he’s just very busy as king. Sidney goes in and out of sleep easily since the medicine that Sasha gives him is strong and never sees him. Whether or not it’s made specifically to put Sidney to sleep so Zhenya doesn’t have to bother with him, he can’t tell. All he knows is that when he wakes up, he feels a bit better each time.

So at least if they’re drugging him, it doesn’t seem to be hurting him.

Seryozha doesn’t take Sidney’s theory lightly.

“Zhenya wouldn’t do that. I don’t think he’d take kindly to you saying that either,” Seryozha chides.

Sid grits his teeth but doesn’t apologize. He can’t. Not when he’s been kept in this room for three days without seeing much else than an adjoining master bath. It seems Zhenya has been keeping the children away from him as well. That should put him at ease a little, not having to pretend to be their father, but he can’t help but worry that they’re worrying that their papa is more hurt than they first imagined.

“When can I see him?” Sidney asks.

Seryozha looks as though he’s contemplating denying Sidney’s request but he only sighs. “You can see him now.” Walking over to the bedroom doors, he opens both at the same time to reveal Zhenya on the other side, one ear pressed to where the door once was, his hand cupped around it.

Guiltily, Zhenya pretends to be fixing his hair. Funny, a king embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping in his own castle.

“How much did you hear?” Seryozha asks with a bit of bravery considering he’s speaking to the king. Sidney isn’t sure what to make of their relationship. He imagines they must be very familiar with each other.

“Not much, you speak too softly,” Zhenya says shamelessly.

“Instead of eavesdropping, you should just communicate without using me between you both,” Seryozha tells Zhenya. “I’m not your messenger.”

Zhenya looks a lot younger with Seryozha scolding him. It’s amazing to watch.

The advisor leaves them alone, closing the door on the king’s face as Zhenya searches for a way to fill the silence.

Before, Sidney had so many questions but now that they’re alone, he’s not sure where to start. He’s not even sure if he can ask some of them for fear of getting a real answer.

“Troja misses you,” Zhenya begins, then winces. “They ask so many questions. It’s getting hard to use excuses. They real smart, just like their papa.”

“Do you still think that’s me? Their papa?” Sidney asks first. He uses the plate of food on his lap as a distraction. He’s never had so much potato stew in one week before. It’s good though, and heartier than most food he’s eaten lately.

“Little bit,” Zhenya says. “I think part of you love them. You look right when you with them.”

Sid nods slowly. “They seem like sweet kids.” The other day Yura drew him a picture and had Tisha deliver it to him. He can’t believe how much Yura reminds him of Avery. “I have a kid, where I’m from. His name is Avery.”

Zhenya looks squarely past Sidney’s shoulder. “Avery,” he breathes out slowly. “How old is he?”

“Five,” Sidney admits.

“Five,” Zhenya echos. “Yura is four. I’m tell Sidka we stop at three but he wants another. Adopt this time, too. Says he found perfect little girl needing parents. We never finish talking about it.”

“That’s a lot of kids,” Sidney jokes. If he had his way, he would have another kid but he wouldn’t do that to Avery and not to another baby. Not when he’s struggling to get by with just the two of them.

“Sid loves kids. He so good with them, a natural,” Zhenya boasts, looking the most relaxed Sidney has ever seen him.

“Can I meet them? For real this time, I mean. I wasn’t really in my right mind when I saw them before,” Sid asks for permission.

“Of course. They miss you,” Zhenya says, although, it feels like Zhenya might not be talking directly to Sid when he says it. Wherever Zhenya’s real husband is, Sid hopes that he’s having a better time of adjusting than he is.

Not having a broken leg would already be a step up.

Following a few peaceful moments of quiet, Zhenya pushes up off and the bed.

“Hey, Zhenya,” Sid says quietly, watching the man walk away to leave Sidney for the night, “do you want to sleep here tonight?”

The man pauses, his hand poised to grab the door handle. “I want you be comfortable.”

“I am,” Sidney confesses. “It’s your room, too.” _Royal quarters_ , Sidney could have sworn he heard.

Zhenya looks sad even though he smiles. “Another night.”

“Goodnight, Zhenya.”

“Goodnight,” Zhenya replies. He opens and closes the door slowly, leaving Sidney with a heavy heart.

 

*

 

Valeria is the most excited to see that her papa is doing better.

She runs across the great dining hall to get to Sidney, nearly jumping into his lap to get closer to him. Calmly, Zhenya clears his throat and she adjusts herself.

“Papa, my drawing maked you better?” the youngest asks, standing at his sister’s elbow.

“Much better,” Sidney says.

Troja stands nearby, taking the seat closest to Sidney before the siblings can argue about who gets the seat. At that Zhenya smirks.

“You have something to tell papa,” Zhenya encourages Troja over dinner, which luckily, only involves the five of them. As usual, the king’s guards are nearby but they don’t seem to be on high alert, whispering amongst themselves while they watch the exits.

“I lost a baby tooth,” Troja says shy to admit, however, quick to open his mouth and poke his tongue in the space where a baby tooth once was to show Sid. “My last one.”

“Bet you already put it under your pillow,” Valya teases her younger brother.

“Did not,” Troja insists.

Yura looks between his siblings, pouting. “I wanna lose my teeth too.”

“You will, _solnyshko_ ,” Zhenya reassures the youngest. “I’m sure soon.”

“They grow up so fast,” Sidney mumbles to himself.

Unsure, Zhenya reaches across the table, putting his hand on top of Sid’s. “They do.”

 

*

 

The Dupuis party arrives much faster than Zhenya expects. It doesn’t take an expert to know that their presence is a weight lifted off the king’s shoulders. A stroke of luck that they had been traveling up the coast for their own personal matters.

Unfortunately, this Pascal is not Sidney’s just as Sidney’s not Zhenya’s.

“It’s magic, yes, but I’m not strong enough to reverse this type of spell,” Pascal admits.

“And if you use Sidney’s library? You still can’t?” Zhenya presses.

Pascal shakes his head. “I could tell you how to break the spell, at most. Whatever Sid did, it’s not magic that I’m familiar with. It’s likely something he had been working on by himself.”

“You’re saying that only Sidney can send me home,” Sid asks, feeling strange. They’re talking about a version of him that’s not really him.

“Most likely,” Pascal says apologetically. “Unless, you have magic of your own that you can surprise us with.”

“I don’t,” Sid says.

Zhenya pours himself a large glass of mead, drinking nearly half of it in one gulp. He looks into the cup, then at Pascal. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Don’t fuss about it,” Pascal says, waving Zhenya off. “Me and my men will stay until we get this fixed. We’ll get both Sidneys back where they belong. You have my word, _mon amie_.”

“I want to help,” Sidney adds.

“Then we’re already on the right track,” Pascal says happily.

 

*

 

Magic text ends up being harder to get through than Sidney imagined. He ends up asking Pascal questions that take up almost as much time as it takes Sidney to get through the passages to begin with.

In a polite way that reminds him so much of Pascal, the man suggests that Sid see how the children are doing with their lessons. With no room to really be all that offended, Sid excuses himself. He wasn’t given much direction of where the children might be so he wanders. Every member of the staff he passes, gives him a polite bow as he passes and one even asks if Sidney needs something.

Valya seems intently focused on her sewing that Sidney bypasses her without interruption.

Yura is quite excited to show Sidney how far he’s come with reading but his tutor draws Yura’s attention back to the book at hand.

A guard tells Sidney that Troja is in the courtyard when he asks. Trying to stay in character, Sid tries finding the courtyard on his own but gets off on the wrong foot.

“The courtyard is the other way, Your Highness,” the servant corrects hesitantly.

“Right,” Sidney says, nodding. “I knew that.”

As he walks away he can feel the servant’s eyes tracing him until he finally rounds the corner.

Troja is concentrating, one hand extended across the long courtyard with his eyes closed. For some reason, it makes Sidney hold his breath in anticipation. His son closes his hand into a fist multiple times until the brick his hand is aimed at finally breaks into pieces.

“Very good!” Troja’s tutor says excitedly, clapping. “Not put it back together.”

It doesn’t really feel right to interrupt this lesson either, even to just observe. He lingers though, drawn by the use of magic.

Troja mutters more underneath his breath the more he struggles. He doesn’t let the fact that he struggles stop him from trying. If anything, the failure spurs him to keep going.

“Your papa would be proud,” the tutor compliments. “You’re tired. We can stop for today.”

Sidney takes this as his opportunity to approach the boy. Zhenya has informed him proudly that for only nine, Troja is a bright boy, taking after the Queen Consort more and more everyday. Sid almost wanted to ask Zhenya how similar he and Zhenya’s husband are, but he felt that it would be cruel.

The way the staff eye Sidney carefully is not something that often happens back in Pittsburgh.

“Papa, did you see?” Troja asks, bounding up to Sid in a rush. Sid almost opens his arms to welcome a hug but the boy stops before he gets too close.

“I did,” Sid confirms. “Impressive.”

“It took me a while,” Troja says, disappointed.

“But you did it,” Sidney says gently, kneeling down to the boy’s height. “You should be proud.”

Troja bites his bottom lip. “Will I be able to use magic as well as you?”

Sid takes the time to consider the question carefully. He doesn’t want to answer too quickly because he feels like the real Sidney wouldn’t. He also doesn’t want to discourage the boy, not when he’s looking at Sid so hopeful for a good answer.

“One day,” Sidney settles for.

The boy’s face lights up. Even if it was out of character for Sidney, it feels right.

 

*

 

At dinner, they’re joined by Pascal and a few of his men. He sees a familiar face in Kris but like Pascal, Kris doesn’t recognize him. Since it was agreed that as few people as possible are to know about Sidney’s identity, Kris won’t know that Sid is from a different world.

It feels somewhat comforting that the children don’t know Pascal either. Only, Sid is supposed to be well acquainted with Pascal so if he makes mistakes interacting with the man, no one else will know.

“Can you tell the story about the bunny and the bear, Papa?” Yura asks at bedtime.

Zhenya looks at Sid, ready to make an excuse why Sidney can’t while Sid pales. “How about we finish reading about the big beanstock?”

Yura nuzzles closer to his father, shaking his head. “I want the bunny and the bear.”

“I can tell the story,” Zhenya offers.

“But Papa does the voices better,” Yura protests.

“I do do the voices better,” Sidney agrees, teasing, much to Zhenya’s surprise. He stops the other man from protesting, continuing. “But maybe you should let Father tell the story just this once. He’ll think you don’t like his stories.”

The child gasps. “Just this once,” he repeats.

“Just this once,” Sidney replies.

“Okay,” Yura concedes.

“I’m honored,” Zhenya says sarcastically, for Sid’s amusement. He props himself up on one elbow and then makes a fake bear noise while tickling Yura until the child is in a fit of giggles. “I’m honored _solnyshko_ you let me tell story tonight. You think I don’t do good voices, no?”

“Best voices!” Yura laughs. “Father does the best voices. Better than Papa!”

Satisfied, Zhenya stops, pulling the small boy to lay on top of him although he and Sidney had just finished tucking him in. “Thought so. I’m best.”

Sidney laughs.

 

*

 

Zhenya is careful with helping Sidney up off Yura’s bed after the child falls asleep halfway through the story. Sidney doesn’t think the lullaby in the middle was something his other self does, but Yura seemed to love it. He was asleep before Zhenya could even finish.

The makeshift crutch Sasha gave Sid works well enough even though it leaves underneath his arm sore. While Zhenya did offer to carry Sid to bed, it seemed embarrassing to have the man do so, so he declined. The offer seemed so natural, too, as if it was something Zhenya has done a dozen times before for the other Sidney.

“Sasha tell me you heal nicely,” Zhenya says. “Maybe Dupuis fix your leg with magic, if you like.”

“Could he really do that?” Sidney asks, surprised.

“Only if you want. Is easy magic.”

Zhenya gently lifts Sidney’s broken leg up onto the bed. A question pops up in Sidney’s head but he holds his tongue, afraid of asking something that would be out of line.

“Need anything else tonight?” Zhenya asks, prepared to leave.

Sidney looks at Zhenya softly. The more Sidney studies him, the more it becomes apparent that the man is royal. Yet, the way he behaves in front of his people and his children are quite different from each other. He’s certainly not an unkind or cruel person but there’s a certain tenderness that appears on his face whenever any of the children approach.

It makes so much more sense that Zhenya’s Sidney would want more children when Zhenya is so good with them.

And his clothes. They look expensive without being stuffy. He fills them like they were made for him beyond them being tailored to the king’s measurements. Elegant would be a good word to describe Zhenya while at the same time not doing justice.

He’s nothing short of perfect. Like a fantasy prince. A _king_.

“You okay?” Zhenya asks when he sees Sidney staring at him for a beat too long without replying.

“Yeah,” Sid says, sounding unsure.

“You need me to tell you story too? I hear I tell best stories,” Zhenya offers, making himself at home at the far end of the bed.

“Yeah—yes.” Sidney pulls the sheet closer to his body, trying to cover himself up. Zhenya doesn’t get closer than he has to on the big bed, waiting patiently for Sid’s request. “I want to know the story of how you fell in love.”

“Oh,” Zhenya says, taken aback.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Sid attempts to backtrack.

“It’s okay. I tell kids all the time. This one story I tell better than you,” Zhenya replies. He clears his throat. “Other you,” he corrects.

“Is it weird? Seeing me but not being the me you know, I mean.”

“Little bit,” Zhenya admits. “I feel like I love this you, too. You’re not Sidka, but you’re Sidney. When I was fifteen I fell in love with shy boy betrothed to older brother. I’m so jealous of Denis for his engagement to perfect boy because here is tradition to take magic user as consort. Little Sidney came and Denis chose him.

“I pretend to be happy for Denis, seeing him court you but betrayed that he would marry someone I love. He tell me though, in secret, where our father can’t hear, that he wants to marry blacksmith’s daughter. After that, I help him sneak off to woo pretty girl while I start to court you instead.

“It takes you _forever_ to realize,” Zhenya laughs quietly. “You think I’m trying to steal you from Denis, which true, but he give me permission first. And I learn all the things you like, stuff that makes you smile. Things that remind you of home. You say you not like jewels that much but I see you wear them all the time. Sometimes you show off to other people all the pretty things I give you.

“We have so much fun, sneaking around castle. Things ten times exciting. But Seryozha finds out because Seryozha works for our father. He scolds us. Tells us we know nothing about love. We don’t understand duty. Denis running off with blacksmith’s girl puts the crown at risk.”

Sidney wrings his hands together subconsciously, his fingers rubbing his ring finger. “Did Seryozha tell your father what you were doing?”

“No, we get lucky there. He keeps our secret because secretly Seryozha is big softy. By the time Denis needs to marry, Father already knows Denis has no intent on taking marriage seriously. I think he always knew I would ask for your hand in marriage.”

“That sounds really nice,” Sidney says. “Like soulmates.”

“Exactly,” Zhenya agrees.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Sid asks.

Without hesitation, Zhenya replies, “Yes. Do you?”

Sid turns his head so he stares up at the ceiling. “I used to.”

“What happened?”

“I realized he didn’t love me back.”

 

*

 

As a great stroke of luck, Pascal comes across a book written entirely by Sidney proposing other dimensions and timelines. Much of the science Pascal doesn’t understand, nor does Zhenya. It’s nothing they’ve seen before and it gives Sid a headache just trying to read it, let alone comprehend it. Some of it is too advanced and other bits are written entirely in Sidney’s personal shorthand.

“It’s all theory but if Sid somehow figured out a way to travel to another dimension, maybe two of the same person can’t exist in the same dimension at one time,” Pascal proposes.

“You think so?” Sidney asks, rubbing his temples. His head injury has healed on the surface but the migraines haven’t gone away yet.

“It’s the best explanation I have right now for why you’re here the moment your other half disappears.” Pascal shrugs in defeat. “It will take some time for me to fully read Sid’s research _and_ figure out what to do with it after.”

“By then, Sid might come back on his own,” Seryozha inputs.

“Papa!” echoes off the castle walls accompanied by small footsteps running toward Sidney’s personal study.

Yura throws himself into Sidney’s lap, narrowly missing Sid’s bad leg. “Papa, are you coming to watch us leave for our hunt?”

“Oh,” Sidney says, pretending to play along. “Of course. I just forgot.”

“Now!” Yura encourages loudly. He holds Sid’s one hand with both of his own, helping his papa get to his feet. “Still hurt, Papa?”

“Only a little,” Sidney promises. “It shouldn’t be much longer before I’m fully healed.”

“A broken leg, right?” Pascal asks to confirm. “I can heal it now without a problem. It’s a simple mending spell.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Troja asks, standing at the doorway dressed in heavy winter clothing. Sidney hadn’t even realized the other boy was there, he was so quiet.

“I suppose I didn’t realize how long it would take to heal naturally,” Sidney responds a tad too quickly. The excuse doesn’t sound as convincing out loud as it did the split second it was in his head.

Putting a careful hand onto Sidney’s leg, Pascal mutters an incantation. His fingertips feel warm momentarily before Sid feels his leg change. Leaning his weight on it no longer hurts as if his leg is brand new. He fails at hiding his amazement, bending his leg to test it.

“Papa,” Yura says, trying to get Sid’s attention.

Schooling his expression, Sid ruffles the boy’s hair as he’s seen Zhenya do. “Let’s go.”

Once outside, Yura goes running off to Zhenya who stands half dressed despite the cold. Likewise, Valya is wearing a concerningly few number of articles of clothing. Yura makes to do the same, taking off his extensive layers.

The only child sane enough to keep their clothes on is Troja, standing faithfully by Sidney’s side.

“We’ll be back by nightfall,” Zhenya promises, coming over to Sidney. He rubs Sid’s cold shoulders, feeling warm despite only having on pants. For the sake of the children, or perhaps for keeping up appearances, Zhenya kisses Sidney on the forehead sweetly. “I keep close eye on Yura.”

As Zhenya backs away, his footsteps leave larger and larger footprints in the snow. His form gets bigger as his shoulders become more hunched and the increasingly familiar growl Zhenya uses with the children emerges deep from the man’s throat. Sidney rubs at his eyes but the image of Zhenya slowly shifting into a great brown bear is real.

Valya and Yura begin to do the same, the remainder of their clothing ripping to shreds.

It’s a proud moment that Sidney doesn’t faint.

“Are we still practicing magic now?” Troja asks, undisturbed by what they watched.

Sid looks at Troja, letting out a shaky breath. “Another time,” he says. “I have to lay down. I’m not feeling well.”

Troja scrutinizes Sidney carefully. “Okay.”

For the first time in nearly a week, Sidney gets to lay on his side. He tosses and turns for some time before settling. Even then, he can’t help but keep thinking about Zhenya shifting. It’s scary, and at the same time, it feel silly to be scared.

On some timeline—this universe—Zhenya is Sidney’s husband. Zhenya is the last person who would ever make Sidney scared.

 

*

 

A warm pile of bodies crawl into bed with Sidney. One body is particularly small with fur all over.

Sid cracks his eyes open, realizing he’s already holding Yura in his arms while the boy is still a bear. The cub’s ears are small and round, twitching in excitement as he tries to sneak into papa’s bed while he’s sleeping. Valya is a bit bigger, choosing to hog her father’s side of the bed so that Zhenya is left—luckily, in human form—squished in the middle.

The bed must be magic because no bedframe should be able to support this much weight.

“Sorry,” Zhenya apologizes, “couldn’t keep them away.”

“It’s okay,” Sidney mumbles back, half-asleep. Yura squirms in his arms, wishing to be held by both of his parents at the same time.

Troja is the only one missing, but not for long. He appears at the bedroom door with a pillow in his hand and a sleepy expression on his face. They get Valya to share her space to make just enough room for all of them to fit on the bed at once.

“How was the hunt?” Sid asks, finding that he feels almost perfectly warm. His eyes are closed but he feels like it would be the right thing to do, asking Zhenya how things went.

Zhenya reaches out, stroking Sidney’s cheek. Sid’s eyes open in surprise. “Good. Tomorrow I bet Valya brag all about it.”

“I’d like that,” Sid whispers.

The king hums smoothly. It’s the same lullaby again. It sounds beautiful.

 

*

 

Sasha much to his own glee and partly Zhenya’s dislike, meets with Sidney every few days to give Sidney lessons on how to be more like Sidney— _Sidka_ , he supposes.

“Sometimes I think Troja looks at me funny,” Sidney confesses over tea even though Sasha should be explaining who the members of Zhenya’s council are.

“Troja loves his papa. You know, papa’s boy.”

“You think he knows that I’m not his real papa?” Sid carefully plucks the leafs from its stem, placing all the individual parts into separate bowls as Sasha likes.

“Maybe he think something wrong, but I’m doubt he knows.” Sasha drains the rest of his cup, then pours himself another. The tea is a bitter herbal kind and is a nice change from all the mead and wine usually served with meals. “Zhenya will keep from children to protect them. You worry about getting home, leave rest to Zhenya.”

Sidney sighs. He has no clue how to do that.

Having almost run out of ways to delay their lessons, Sasha snaps his fingers. “I have idea,” he says, jumping up to go to his bookshelves. He drags his fingers along a few spines of journals before pulling a large book with a worn spine from the top shelf. “You should read. Sidney wrote book on medicine. Is very interesting.”

“This other me seems real smart,” Sidney comments. When he takes the book and opens it, sections of pages are mismatched as if they were taken apart to make room for more.

“You seem smart, too.”

“I didn’t even go to university,” Sid says weakly.

Higher education was a possibility ages ago. Maybe even community college. But without a lack of resources to make it happen, the money he saved away to go ended up being the money he used to get himself away from Cole Harbor.

“What is university?” Sasha asks, intrigued.

“It’s like school,” Sidney tries to simplify, “for adults.”

Sasha hums, understanding.

Fearing Sasha wanting to talk more about it, Sidney buries his nose in the medicine book. It’s surprisingly easy to read, not that Sid recognizes some of the illnesses or ingredients. The cures for magical related diseases go beyond Sidney’s understanding. The instructions are written plainly though. Unlike Sid’s other research.

He reads until his eyes start to hurt.

Valeria interrupts, hovering behind Sidney’s back until he realizes she’s there. Briefly, Sid wonders how such young children are so polite.

“Valya,” he says, unsure how to proceed.

She smiles at him, weighing the words she wishes to use in her head. Sidney thinks she’s preparing to bargain with him for some reason. “I finished my lessons early today, Papa. You said if I finished early you would take me to see Evreux.”

“Did I?” he asks, to be playful. The other Sidney could have given Valya the promise, since he knows he certainly didn’t. The kids’ real papa probably won’t mind too much if he says much. Although, it would help to know who, or what, Evreux is.

“You did,” Valya says.

Sid pretends to sigh. “I suppose I have the time.”

Valya nods eagerly, pulling on Sid’s hand to get him to stand. Sidney is thankful, too, since he has no clue where to go. “Let’s go!” she cheers happily, running off and out of the room, but waiting for him before she gets too far away.

They pass Troja and Yura midway through a lesson on their country’s history, and as the mature sibling, Valya only stops for a second to tease her brothers that she gets to see Evreux and they can’t.

This Evreux requires meeting outside in a back courtyard Sidney hasn’t explored yet. A barn out back seemed uninteresting to get into at the time. Valya seems to disagree. She throws one barn door open but doesn’t get even a toe inside. A large dragon with beautiful black scales comes flying out, a long chain around its neck that doesn’t permit it from going too far away. Evreux opens its mouth, letting out a ray of fire into the air.

While the monster is big, it still seems like an adolescent. It’s a strange comfort that Evreux is big, but Zhenya is _bigger_.

Sidney nearly bites his tongue out of shock.

Unafraid, Valya pets the dragon’s back. “I have a treat for you!” She leaves the dragon’s side long enough to retrieve a brown bag from a barrel sitting on the side of the barn. Reaching her hand inside, she pulls out a dead hare. “I got it for you on my hunt.”

Evreux patiently waits, sitting on its haunches, for the girl to drop the animal onto the ground, then immediately pounces on it. In one gulp, the dragon devours its treat. Thankful, it playfully pushes the girl around by her side with its snout, eliciting a fit of giggles.

As if Zhenya has a sixth sense for Sidney having internal panic, he appears, rushing out to see Evreux in their yard.

“Valeria, careful!” Zhenya yells, startling them except the dragon.

“Papa said it’s okay,” Valya says.

“She’s fine,” Sidney reinforces. However, if something were to go wrong, he’s not sure how much help he could be. He’s not magical, and he certainly isn’t well versed in dragon training unless somehow this universe took a page out of DreamWorks’ book.

“I’m not,” Zhenya says firmly. “You play with Evreux another day. Papa and I have to talk.”

Pouting, Valya spares one last glance at Sidney, hoping that her papa might argue with her father, but Sidney doesn’t. She passes them quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Sid apologizes in private. “I didn’t realize we had a dragon.”

Zhenya attempts a smile. “Is alright. Come to me next time first. Just want you safe.”

 

*

 

Sidney gets a strange desire to start a diary after a particularly good nap. He can’t remember what he dreamt about when he wakes up, but he tracks down the castle’s librarian to inquire about a new notebook. The other Sidney seems fond of writing, however, he had failed to find any blank books in the royal quarters.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t have any blank notebooks. I can send someone into town for you to purchase one,” the librarian tells him, scrabbling on his desk to find a sheet of paper to write Sidney’s order. “Would you like a leatherhide book? Dyed brown, perhaps?”

“That’s alright,” Sidney declines. “I think,” he says thoughtfully, “I’d like to go into town myself.”

Sid leaves the library empty handed. Unbeknownst to him, when Sasha tells Sid that Zhenya is in the great hall, he doesn’t expect to interrupt a meeting.

“I can come back,” Sidney offers, but Zhenya is waving Sidney over to stand at his side.

“We’re almost done here,” Zhenya says. “You need me?”

“I’d like to go into town.”

“Today?” the king asks.

It’s not urgent, but Sidney feels as though the real consort would assert himself. “Yes,” Sidney decides. “I think I’d like to go today,” he says a bit more confidently.

Affectionately, Zhenya puts his arm around Sidney’s waist, drawing him closer until Sidney nearly has to perch himself on the man’s lap. Sid feels as though the man meant to have him closer until he felt Sid’s steps stutter and resist.

“Meeting adjourned,” Zhenya announces.

A few men at the table grumble, but they collect themselves and leave.

“What are you in need of?” the king asks, dropping his hand to hold Sidney’s briefly, drawing his thumb across Sid’s knuckles.

“I want a notebook,” Sidney says.

“Then we find you one,” Zhenya guarantees. “Only the best for you.”

They aren’t allowed to go by themselves but Zhenya talks Seryozha out of following them so closely. “Only need one guard,” Zhenya tells his advisor. “We get trouble, I turn into bear. Very easy.” Seryozha begs to differ, which seems like an argument he and Zhenya have often.

The town is just on the outskirts of the castle two miles on foot away. A guard offers to get Sidney his horse but Sid declines.

The day is beautiful, with just enough sun and an old layer of snow on the ground melting. The cloak Zhenya insists Sidney wear is much too long for him, dragging on the ground behind them. Now that Sid knows what Zhenya can become, it becomes clearer why Zhenya and the children can run around outside wearing the lightest of clothes.

“But Troja can’t shift,” Sidney comments over their conversation of the hunt.

Zhenya grimaces. “No, he can’t. He little jealous, you know. Valya know magic and shifting, but Troja only do magic.”

“Maybe he’s just a late bloomer,” Sid suggests.

“No, not either. Troja just different. I love Troja regardless. Sidka, too.” Zhenya holds his hand out, assisting Sidney down the steep road.

“How much longer do you think I’ll be here?” Sidney asks.

“Not sure,” Zhenya shakes his head, “but any Sid is always welcome here.”

 

*

 

_Sidka,_

 

_Sometimes I feel like you’re trying to talk to me in my dreams. I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Pascal believes that you and I have switched places. I have to apologize because I’m sure that my world is nothing like yours. I’m no royalty with fancy things._

_Your kids are pretty great. They’re all so bright. Sasha tells me that Valya is first in the line for the throne. She’ll make a great queen one day. I couldn’t believe how brave she is. She looked a dragon in the eye without a problem. And the others. Troja and Yura are sweet boys. Admittedly, I don’t know much about magic but I can tell that Troja is talented. His tutor compliments him so much. You should be proud. And Yura is so curious. He reminds me of my sister, Taylor. You might meet her if you’re in my world long enough._

_If somehow you can see this, tell Avery that I love and miss him. I miss home._

_Your other self,_

_Sidney_

 

*

 

Kitchens of the more ancient variety aren’t so much different than the modern kind so long as you discount the lack of electric appliances.

The smell of bread draws him forward to where a plate of fresh bread sits in the windowsill to cool. The kitchen is empty so he could sneak a piece, just a little taste. Sid gets caught though, with one hand holding a knife and the other touching the hot bread gingerly.

“Your Highness,” a woman says. “Allow me to serve you,” she insists, rushing over to cut the bread for him. She plates it and procures the last of the apples Pascal and his party brought from the south with them.

“Thank you,” Sidney says. He picks the piece of bread apart then asks, “Do you have butter?”

“Of course!”

Pleased, Sidney moans at the taste.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks. Sidney finally sees that he must have interrupted her chores.

“No, thank you.”

She curtsies carefully, then rushes off with her bucket to fill with water.

His presence startles yet another servant coming in to wash the dishes so Sidney removes himself to go somewhere more private. It seems awfully unlike royalty to walk around the castle with his plate of food, which almost makes it all the more fun to do so. Sid has been so preoccupied in his own head trying to act like Zhenya’s husband that it’s been some time since he’s properly slouched or even allowed himself to unbutton his collar.

(Shockingly, most of his clothes were much more free but Sidney couldn’t bring himself to wear robes or silk around the castle. He finds that being wrapped in furs much more comfortable. Oddly though, much of those clothes were tucked away elsewhere.

His other self is lucky to not feel cold often.)

“Your Highness.” Duper smiles in greeting. “That’s a familiar sight. Sid’s always had a good appetite.”

“Really?” Sid asks, surprised.

“You should’ve seen the castle when he was carrying. I think Zhenya had a seperate staff just to make meals for Sidney alone,” Duper jokes.

“The kids, Sid gave birth to them?” Sidney holds his stomach without meaning to, rubbing the flat surface. He couldn’t imagine that, not even in a world with magic.

Duper nods. “You know, just a little fertility potion. Sid’s magic did the rest.”

“He sounds pretty amazing.”

“He is,” Duper agrees.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” a young girl says, holding bedsheets in her arms. Sidney moves to allow her to get past. She bows because she can’t curtsy, then scampers off.

Sidney plays with his apple pieces, pushing them around on its plate. “I can’t get used to that.”

“What?” Duper raises an eyebrow.

“The bowing and the your highness bit,” Sidney laughs. “I just—it feels weird that they’re talking to me.”

“Well, you are married to the king,” Duper says.

“Right,” Sidney replies. That’s the only reason they’d treat him like that, because they have to.

“You’re an advisor to the council, too,” Pascal adds belatedly. “You’re pretty respected around here just because you’re you. It’s not all to do with Zhenya.”

“But I’m not me. I’m not who they think I am,” Sidney admits. Pascal already knew that though.

“Zhenya didn’t just start off as king. Sid didn’t just become a council member. They earned it.” Duper crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you know where Sidney is from? This world’s Sidney.”

“No.” Sidney figured he must have come from somewhere close by if he was able to marry the prince.

Duper scuffs his shoes along the ground. “Here isn’t even a little close to home. Sid came from the South. A kid from a poor fishing town. When the royal decree calling all magic users to the Kingdom was sent, your—well, his—parents sent him with the last money they had to come here. Zhenya’s father saw something in Sid.”

“Was he special?”

“Yeah,” Duper says back. “So are you.”

“How do you figure?” Sidney scoffs.

“You’re Sidney, too, aren’t you?” Duper asks cryptically.

The fact crossed his mind, he just didn’t believe it himself.

 

*

 

At night the children try to join Sidney and Zhenya for bed.

“Too warm tonight,” Zhenya straight out lies. It’s snowing outside. “Papa and I need private time,” he tells them, causing Sidney’s face to burn scarlet. The innuendo wasn’t made on purpose. Sid is definitely reading into it and still. The children’s nanny seems to think about it too with the way she ushers them out of the room.

“I’ll keep them in their rooms,” she tells the king. Then with a wink, she leaves.

Sid feels awkward sitting on the bed with Zhenya after.

“I wouldn’t,” Zhenya says.

Sid breathes out slow. The most Zhenya has done to Sid is hold his hand and maybe kiss his forehead. The other Sidney is lucky Zhenya is so sweet.

“Goodnight, Zhenya.” Sidney lays down and curls onto his side, facing the opposite wall. The only bit of light left in the room is the fire crackling.

The bed dips as Zhenya also makes himself comfortable. “Goodnight,” Zhenya answers. Carefully, hesitantly, slides closer yet still far enough away where Zhenya would have to reach out to finally touch Sidney.

“Sidka,” Zhenya breathes out quietly.

Sidney doesn’t hear it.

 

*

 

_Sidka,_

 

_Ilya gave me a lesson on the Malkin family tree today. You’re on it now, so are the kids. It felt weird seeing someone who isn’t really me with my name and face. I’ve been trying really hard not to get caught not being you. There’s a lot of etiquette that I didn’t know would be a problem before coming here._

_For appearances, I get to call Zhenya’s advisor Seryozha but I don’t think he likes it. Sasha doesn’t seem to mind though. To him, I’m just Sidney._

_Your friends really miss you._

_Your other self,_

_Sidney_

 

*

 

The kiss is accidental.

Sidney might get a little too swept up into playing his role as Queen Consort, letting the tailor fret over him. Apparently, a southern high born’s birthday is happening in the upcoming months and Zhenya and Sidney are invited.

Thinking Sidney needs rescuing from political small talk, Zhenya monitors the whole event, acting as a buffer, always steering the conversation away from topics Sidney doesn’t know about.

“Doesn’t your queen look lovely?” the tailor asks for approval.

“Very much,” Zhenya agrees, awestruck.

The tailor seemed to think Sidney would want something very light and sheer, although with a more opaque layer to be worn underneath. It seemed a bit risque for a baby’s birthday but if the stories of the consort Sasha tells him have any grain of truth, the consort quite likes to show off a bit.

“You think so?” Sidney checks, flattening out the material that’s meant to flow around him freely.

“Yes,” Zhenya repeats, stopping to stand in front of Sid. The tailor had given Sid something to stand on and now, he and Zhenya are almost at equal eyelevel.

Brave, Sidney puts his hand on Zhenya’s chest, brushing down the fur collar. “I like it,” he admits. Zhenya holds his hands on Sidney’s hips, careful.

Without thinking about it for too long, Sidney leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the king’s lips. While the kiss is quick, pulling away seems to take an eternity. Though brief, Zhenya’s eyes are closed and his lips are still pouty, as if he had been expecting the kiss to continue longer.

Sidney feels his face heat up but his panic is assauged the second time Zhenya kisses him—the first time Zhenya initiates a kiss between them. The king pulls Sidney closer until their chests are aligned. It leaves Sidney lightheaded and breathless. He doesn’t let go of Zhenya’s collar after the second kiss ends.

“Beautiful,” Zhenya says, raw and honest.

Sid lives in the moment, savoring it to remember for later. Then he has to push himself away.

The king clears his throat. “Semyon, please finish later.” The tailor, having enjoyed the romantic moment, blinks rapidly, attempting to gather his kit to leave. “Collect things another time.”

Semyon leaves.

To Sidney, Zhenya smells a little like forest pine. Like, the warmth of Christmas.

“Sorry if I take too far,” the king apologizes, looking far away, balling his hands into fists.

“No, I’m sorry. I started it.”

“You look like you regret,” Zhenya points out.

“You have a husband,” Sidney reminds the man.

The king shakes his head. “Sidney is my husband. _You’re_ Sidney. Is what you told me, correct?”

“It doesn’t feel weird to you?” Sidney asks.

Zhenya disagrees with the sentiment. “No. Do you?”

 

*

 

_Sidka,_

 

_You’re really lucky. Zhenya is amazing. With the way he must be with you and the way he is with the kids. I don’t like to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous that someone like Zhenya exists and he loves you. Your family is beautiful._

_Semyon will have your clothes finished by the time you and Zhenya will have to leave for the birthday. I think you’ll like what he made for you._

_You probably want to come home but just for a little while longer, I want to pretend to be you. I think I’m getting the hang of it._

_Your other self,_

_Sidney_

 

*

 

Yura sneaks into the bed, wriggling underneath Sidney’s arm dead in the middle of the night. The general shape of the boy feels so much like Avery, Sid doesn’t bat an eye. He only holds the boy closer.

 

*

 

The merchant who interrupts a meeting with the royal court to complain about children stealing his wares does not like Zhenya, nor does he particularly care for Sidney.

He’s rude enough to barge into the room without permission, dragging the young boy by the ear. Then is stupid enough to demand that Zhenya’s guard leave the room. He thinks to raise a hand to them, but they are armed and he is not.

“I was assured that the children would be punished for their thievery but your men have done nothing! How much longer must I wait for you to do something about this?” the man says angrily, waving a bead necklace the boy must have tried to steal in the air for emphasis.

Sidney bristles, quick to have his own children excused from the room. They like to observe and listen. Most talk of politics goes over their heads and much of the meeting merely was to plan an upcoming festival for Yura’s fifth nameday.

Troja looks particularly affronted by the man’s rude behavior while Yura hides underneath his sister’s arm. Seryozha collects them, carrying Yura out against his hip.

“I ask for proof boys steal, but you have no proof,” Zhenya explains calmly despite the situation. “My men post in the square and see nothing.”

The merchant spits. “So you take the word of a child over the word of an adult?”

“One must earn trust,” Zhenya says.

“I should say the same for you, my King.” The merchant pushes the boy onto the ground. “Do something, or next time I’ll take things into my own hands.”

“What are you implying?” Sidney cuts in.

“Do not play stupid,” the man laughs.

“You will not hurt a child,” Sidney says, getting to his feet although he doesn’t get much farther before Zhenya reaches forward, holding Sidney still by the wrist.

“I don’t take commands from a _consort_ ,” the merchant says, condescending.

“Then you listen to a king,” Zhenya provides, “or else you will receive the punishment you so desire.”

The insult is enough to have the man sputtering, running out from the great hall as fast as he came in unannounced. The boy, shaken up, keeps his head bowed as he remains on the ground. He peeks up through his bangs but looks away from Sidney when he sees the him looking.

Calming himself, Sidney takes in a deep breath. Believing himself to be ready, he slips away from Zhenya, walking over to the boy with cautious steps.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

The boy glances up, then looks back down. “I’m unharmed, Your Highness.”

“No, I swear it!” the boy says, imploring Sidney to understand. “I was framed.”

Sidney puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, willing him to look Sidney in the eye. The boy refuses. It vaguely reminds him of Avery, so afraid to look at Sid directly whenever he’s done something wrong. Only, Sidney can’t tell if this boy is lying and that’s why he can’t look straight at him or it’s because he fears royalty.

Given the situation, in the boy’s shoes, Sidney isn’t sure he’d be able to look a queen in the eyes.

“Go home,” Sidney sighs.

Thankful to be without punishment, the boy bows on his knees. He shakes Sidney’s hand with both of his own and continues to bow even to Zhenya as he backs out of the hall.

“Do you think I made the right decision?” Sidney asks, turning to Zhenya.

The man sighs heavily. “Not sure. Viktor likes to complain but he’s not violent man. He could be telling truth.”

Sid feels his heart drop. “Then why did you take my side?”

“Is what good husband does,” Zhenya says, plainly, as if it should be obvious to Sidney. Like it should be second nature that he take Sid’s side. “You trust your instincts and I trust you.”

“But what if he really was guilty?”

“Then we give fair trial and appropriate punishment.”

“With no harm done to the boy,” Sidney implores the man.

Zhenya makes a displeased face. “No harm,” he vows.

 

*

 

A pattern occurs in which Sidney’s daily routine feels less of a chore and more of a second skin.

He eats breakfast with the children and Zhenya in the morning, then sees the kids off to their lessons. He avoids interrogation from Troja on his magic lessons. The boy wants his papa’s proper support which Sidney can’t provide without revealing that he can’t use magic. Instead, he dotes on little Yura, so happy to have the extra attention of his papa.

After, he always has tea with Sasha, who is always happy to gossip with Sidney. It makes him more familiar with current castle events than the little lessons Seryozha had planned out.

Sidney thinks about asking Sasha if they were such good friends before—more so, if he got along as well with the other Sidney, but he never can hold the courage long enough to ask out loud. He doesn’t want to make the situation awkward if the answer is no.

In the afternoon he reads. Sometimes, Zhenya will join him, in between his kingly duties. Zhenya likes when Sidney reads to him and more than once Seryozha has caught them cuddled close together reading the history of their kingdom. The fact that the book hadn’t been simply a tall tale written for children astounds him.

Sid isn’t sure where the surprise comes from. His husband and two children can shift into bears and there’s a dragon in the back courtyard. People think he can use magic. His children _can_ use magic. Surely, the story of how Zhenya’s great great great grandfather built the castle with his brothers shouldn’t come as such a surprise.

Other times, instead of hiding away to read, Sid will sit with Zhenya through his meetings. He doesn’t provide much insight to matters discussed. Sometimes he will see Zhenya look at him periodically, always allowing an extra second to wait for Sidney to contribute. When he doesn’t, the meeting moves on.

Evreux is actually a friendly dragon. Maybe it’s his scent or the dragon bonded with the other Sidney, but the beast is slow to warm up to him. It’s intelligent and doesn’t take kindly to the simple dog tricks Sid tries to see if the dragon can do.

The nights are what Sid looks forward to the most.

Their family dinners are so nice. Looking down the table, Sid sees the big family that he’s always wanted. With the few extra chairs, he could even see filling those one day, too, if he were to stay in this fantasy land. Seryozha or Sasha sometimes join them.

“You listening, Sidka?” Zhenya asks, tactfully putting his hand on Sid’s forearm and squeezing.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Sidney shakes his head.

“Not feeling okay?”

“I think I need to lay down,” Sid chooses delicately.

“I’ll escort you,” Zhenya suggests.

Sid presses a short kiss against Zhenya’s hand where it cups Sid’s cheek. “Finish dinner without me. I’ll be okay.”

“Sure?”

“Yes,” Sidney smiles. “I’m sure. Really sure.”

Zhenya returns the kiss. Sidney is very sure.

 

*

 

A small hand comes down onto Sidney’s face, interrupting his nap. Harmless, really, but the body attached is big enough that when it tries to climb onto Sidney, he feels the wind pushed out of him.

“Squirt, careful,” Taylor says, concerned. The weight is removed and Sidney drearily blinks his eyes open to see his sister taking Avery away. “ _Sidney_ ,” she breathes out of relief. With Avery on one hip, she leans down to hug him, her face tucked away in the crook of his neck as her eyes well up with tears.

“Where am I?” he asks. His head aches and he can’t move one of his legs. His mouth is dry as well. He had thought he was past this experience.

Taylor sits down into a chair pulled up against the bed. “You got in an accident. You’re in the hospital now.”

“There was a car,” Sid says, remembering it vaguely.

“The police said it went through the red light but that isn’t what you hit,” she sighs, combing her fingers through Avery’s hair. For a moment, Sid wonders who’s been taking him to school. “That tree you ran into put up a pretty good fight.”

“Is my car totaled?” Sid has to close his eyes. The hospital lights seem too bright in his room.

“Yeah,” Taylor confirms. “It would’ve been totaled either way. If you didn’t hit the tree, you would’ve been T-boned. I’m just thankful that you’re okay.”

“What’s my damage?” Licking his lips, he only has to look for something to drink. Taylor is already bringing a styrofoam cup with a straw up to his lips.

“A broken leg, mild concussion, and some pretty bruised ribs. For an old clunker, your airbag did the trick.”

Sid drinks almost the entire cup. The water was lukewarm, as if it had been sitting there for a while. Taylor looks like she’s been sitting in the hospital for a while. The same with Avery, who looks more tired than Sid has ever seen him.

“Have you gone home at all?”

Taylor offers a small smile. “You wake up and you have all these questions.” She laughs at him, seeming relieved. “You should get some more rest.”

“Taylor,”

“Sid.”

“ _T_ _aylor_.”

“Hey, Aves, why don’t you finish that movie now?” Taylor suggests, drawing out her headphones from her purse. Avery automatically accepts the cell phone proffered to him. “Your dad and I just need to talk.”

“I’m hungry,” Avery lets the adults know, refusing to leave Sid’s side.

“Mr. Pascal is gonna pick you up soon,” Taylor promises.

Sidney waits until Avery has put the headphones on to continue the conversation. “Has he been staying with Pascal this whole time?”

“I got some time off from work. He’s been kinda bouncing between your house and the Dupuis’,” Taylor clarifies.

“School?”

“Avery hasn’t missed a day. I’ve been getting my notes from Katie. It’s not a huge deal. I’d rather be here making sure you’re alright than being worried out of my mind in class,” Taylor shrugs.

“Your classes are important.”

Taylor rolls her eyes, tired. “Classes are offered any time. I only have one big brother.”

A nurse on her rounds prevents the conversation from going further. She looks pleased to see that Sidney is awake and talking.

“Glad to see you awake, Mr. Crosby. How’s your pain on a scale from one to ten?” she asks, looking at his chart, then moves to record his vitals.

Sid blinks hard. “Pain is a six. My headache feels like an eleven though.”

The nurse clicks her pen shut. “Good, good. I’ll get you something for that. You drinking yet?” Despite asking, she peeks inside the styrofoam cup anyway. “I’ll get you some more water, too. Dinner should be coming around soon.”

Taylor yawns, unable to hide how tired she is from behind her hand.

“Go home, Taylor,” Sid urges her.

Pretending to be annoyed, Taylor gets up slowly. “I guess if you’re kicking us out.” She yawns again. “You can’t keep me from coming back in the morning.” Awkward and one armed, she hugs him.

“Do I want to know where you’ve been staying?”

“Your place,” she answers, “it’s pretty quiet there.”

Sidney swallows, wishing that he had more water. “We should probably talk about that.”

“When you get out,” Taylor suggests. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s let your dad sleep some more. I’ll get you a snack downstairs.”

Avery rubs at his eyes, catching his aunt’s yawn. He hugs Sidney more cautiously this time. “Get better soon,” he tells him.

“I’ll do my best,” Sidney promises the best he can.

The painkiller the nurse gives him takes a while for it to kick in but he falls asleep nonetheless.

 

*

 

“You gave us a real scare there,” Duper says, holding Sidney’s crutches while Sid attempts to get into the other man’s car. It’s a minivan that Sid and the other guys at the bar has given Duper hell for but now, he’s thankful for how low the car is.

“I can imagine,” Sidney agrees.

Duper shuts the door for Sid, putting the crutches in the backseat. The bag with Sid’s personal items are tucked away on the floor. “This probably goes without saying, but,” Duper says, getting himself settled in the car, “Carole-Lyne and I are here for you and Avery if you need us.”

Sid blames it on all the painkillers he’s been on for the past few days that he becomes teary eyed at the offer.

“Thanks, Duper. It means a lot to me. And Avery.”

 

*

 

Very seriously, Maeva approaches Sidney with a small gift box and a homemade get well card from all the Dupuis children. She doesn’t wait for Sidney to open the gift before she’s proudly telling him, “It’s my goal puck. _Game winning_.”

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, matching her enthusiasm. “It’s too heavy for to put on the fridge but I’ll make sure to put it somewhere special.”

Avery happily takes the puck from Sidney. “I know where to put it!”

“How worried were they?” Sid asks once they’re out of an earshot.

Duper reclines on the couch. “Pretty worried. Taylor got the call at maybe one in the morning? The first responders called Spencer first and he basically told them to fuck off. It took them two tries to get a hold of Taylor. Then she called my house.”

“I guess I don’t have to break the news that Spencer and I broke up,” Sid jests.

“No, you don’t,” Duper half-laughs. “You’ll be better off without him anyway. You have us.”

“Shit,” Sidney curses, his mind wandering. “How pissed is Kris gonna be at me?”

“For driving when you’re half-asleep? Pretty mad. You should’ve heard him cursing up a storm when I told him what happened,” Duper says. “He went to go see you, but you were so out of it. You barely knew he was there.”

“I’ve had better days,” Sidney agrees.

“If you’re up to it, Maeva has another home game in a few days. She’d love if you guys were there. I’m taking the kids and Carole-Lyne is coming from work. She can swing by to get you guys.”

As if on cue, Maeva and Avery come back running into the room. Sidney figures they must have been in his bedroom, putting the puck on Avery’s designated accomplishment shelf.

“We’ll be there.” If Sid takes a nap and has another painkiller before the game, he can.

“Great!” Duper says, picking up his daughter, flipping her upside down. “We should get going. Let you rest.”

“Pascal,” Sidney says, serious, “thank you.”

“We’re here for you.”

Sid, holding his hand out, feels pleased when Duper takes it.

 

*

 

The rink doesn’t hurt his eyes quite as much as Sidney expected. He wears sunglasses inside and ignores the stares that comes with it.

The rest of the Dupuis who arrived earlier choose seats right up against the glass so Sid doesn’t have to climb up the bleachers. As dramatic as Maeva had been, Lola and Zoe cling to him. If not for the fact that he’s trying to put on a brave face, Kody likely would have been doing the same. Instead, he waits his turn.

“By the way, Sid,” Duper says, putting his hand on the shoulder of the man sitting next to him, “this is Geno Malkin. He’s taking over as Kody’s coach. He also runs the hockey camp at the rec center.”

Geno stands, approaching Sidney so Sid doesn’t have to struggle with his crutches. He’s huge in a way that’s familiar to Sid but not intimidating. “I’m love kids,” Geno explains. “Have one of my own.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sid replies. He holds his hand out first. He feels like he’s blushing. Later, he can blame it on not feeling well. “I’m Sidney. This is my son, Avery. He plays hockey, too.”

“He have a team?” Geno asks. He chuckles when Sid straightforwardly, makes room for Geno to side beside him by nudging Avery to sit with the rest of the Dupuis children sitting two bleacher seats above them.

“He does, but I think we might be switching clubs soon.”

One of Avery’s coaches called Sidney while he had been in the hospital, but somewhere between making the call and hearing why Sidney never answered, chose to skirt around the issue once Sid finally got back to him. They can call him indignant behind his back later on if they want. Sidney has gone through a rough week—what feels like more than a month, actually. He has his reasons for not being as kind while they bide their time for a better moment to kick Avery out.

“If you’re looking, I help find,” Geno suggests.

“I’d really like that.” Sidney doesn’t often do this, but if Geno is anything like Zhenya, the risk feels worth the clammy hands and the heart attack he’s about to have. “I should probably get your number.”

“Should I wait two, three days to call?” Geno asks jokingly, leaning into Sidney’s space.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Over Geno’s shoulder, Pascal gives Sidney a surprised look.

One day Sidney will try to explain things. They’ll try to tell him it was all part of a bad fever dream or a side effect of the medication. It sounds crazy, Sidney knows. There’s no true proof that he ever went to another universe and lived there for months. He learned so much though.

Love at first sight exists for some, after all.

 

*

 

_Sidka,_

 

_I was jealous of you, but I’ve realized that I don’t have to be. I have Duper and Kris. I have Taylor and the sweetest little boy in the world. Now I have a special Zhenya of my own. He’s no king and I’m certainly not a queen on this earth but he treats me like it. You should see him. His daughter loves Avery. So it’s like I might finally get that big family I’ve always wanted._

_One day I hope you can tell me how you did it. If you could teach me a little of that magic, that’d be great._

_It turns out that we’re both lucky._

_Tell Zhenya and Sasha thank you for me. I’ll miss them and the children. I have a little one of my own to take care of. Geno and Aly are great, but for a while longer, I think it’s just going to be me and Avery. Geno understands we have things of our own to work on._

_Your other self,_

_Sidney_

**Author's Note:**

> The children are: Valeria/Valya (11), Troja (9; named for Sid's father Troy), Avery (5), and Yura (4). The little girl needing parents is Alyona, Geno's daughter. 
> 
> The dragon is named Evreux for Avery.
> 
> "Solnyshko" means sunshine, however, I found it spelled both ending in an -a and an -o as a way to address males so I just used -o. If it's wrong, feel free to let me know and I'll change it! I'm not well versed in Russian.


End file.
